


Customers of Doom

by DwarfOfManyJourneys



Series: League of AUs - Twisted Graves Edition [2]
Category: League of Legends
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Boys Will Be Boys, Bullies, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-28
Updated: 2015-08-28
Packaged: 2018-04-17 16:36:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4673798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DwarfOfManyJourneys/pseuds/DwarfOfManyJourneys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Graves hated his job at the local coffee shop, but to make things worse, that one customer can't stop getting on his nerves.<br/>Or: The coffee shop AU nobody asked for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Customers of Doom

**Author's Note:**

> I said "We need more AUs." I meant it. :D  
> And if those talented authors out there won't go for it, well... guess I have to continue :P

It was a nice, sunny autumn day in Bilgewater City, a bit crispy outside, but too beautiful to stay indoors anyway.  
Perfect weather for a cup of coffee, which was the whole reason why Malcolm Graves swore like a sailor against autumn in general.

"Two caramel, low-fat frappuchino, comin' right up." he grunted, as the girls in front of the counter giggled and unsuccessfully tried to stay discreet about ogling his muscled arms. He pushed the styrofoam cups their way and turned to the next costumer, ignoring his co-worker‘s whispered "Smiling does NOT hurt, Graves."

He hated his job. No, he **loathed** it. But since he lost his position as a bodyguard at a nightclub, he found no other student-friendly occupation and when Leona told him about this shop, well... he needed money and they paid well. Unfortunately, else he would have quit already. He had a lot of reasons for hating this job, one of them being the gits like the one right in front of the line. "The hell ye want?" he asked through his teeth, his co-worker looking horrified. Oh, from their point of view, he was irrationally impolite to a nice looking young man, dreads caught in a ponytail, amused glinting brown eyes and a fond grin on his face. But he knew better. He saw the calculating glances, the smug twitch of his mouth, yes, Malcolm Graves saw that guy's ugly mug and he knew his tricks a little too well.

"Oh, _why thank you_ , good sir - Malcolm was it? A macchiato, lactose-free and one of those chocolate cookies over there." The twitch again. Graves felt his pulse rise, as he put a cup under the machine with just a bit too much force. "Name's Graves for ya." The customer leaned forwards, his light green shirt riding up a bit and a bit of sunkissed skin showing, eyes nearly burning with an intent Graves could not decipher. Instead, he avoided eye contact and looked down at his hands as he worked nearly forgetting to ask: "What name?" A deep chuckle. "Nicknames already, hotshot? Buy me dinner first." He even had the audacity to wink as the barrista felt the treacherous warmth of a blush. Graves' co-worker nudged him slightly, a nervous grin on his face. "Easy Mal, we don't need another incident." _Incident._ He would give them incident, alright. The asshats had it coming, that's for sure, when he threw them out last month after some drunk and very stupid jokes about, well... people and stuff. Which you don't, when you enter a openly queer-friendly place.

But this guy rubbed him in _all the wrong ways_. That man was a snake, a wolf in sheep's clothing, deceiving innocent people with his warm and easygoing attitude, when inside lurked something darker, sinister and cunning. Graves could feel it, his perception was never wrong and that person in front of him was more dangerous than he let on. A velvety voice brought him back from his daydreams. "Twisted Fate." He looked at the fellow student (his backpack said so, at least), who shrugged and grinned again, as Graves' scowl darkened and his scribbling was unnecessarily vicious. He pushed the cup over the counter and took the offered money, ignoring the little jolt of electricity as their fingers met. Deep brown eyes met his with an intense stare, before 'Twisted Fate' sauntered back to the door, oblivious to the appreciating looks (or so he let them believe. Graves knew **better.** ) and with a little spring in his steps.

"One would think, this is his favourite time of the day." "Shut it, Taric."

To his great displeasure, the guy seemed to agree with Taric and came by _every single day_ of the week. Sometimes he would order a plain black coffee, sometimes he chose the most atrocious combinations, just to spite him. In return, Graves would write "asshole", "shithead" or "princess smugness" on the cup, which normally resulted in a soft chuckle or a wink in his general direction. To make things worse, his co-workers decided to vanish in thin air, whenever the bastard arrived, leaving him to deal with his personal nightmare.

And then the asshats were back. Strolling into the shop as if they owned it, pushing customers aside and eyes roaming over the counter. "If it isn't the barrista fag and his gay pals. Having trouble finding a hole to fill or do you get off _serving_ your customers?" The smaller ones of them snickered, while their boss and his two no-brainers flexed their muscles. Graves heard Taric mumble "Not again." as he ushered the (Bi-)Curious Couple (as they dubbed Ezreal and Lux) back to the storage room. Graves rolled his shoulders and went to the front. "Take your intolerant little shits and leave, before I make you." His voice kept low and steady. The mighty asshat king fumed. "Don't touch me fag, a word about your shitty service and your shop is ruined." Graves knew better than to start a fight, but his patience was thin on most days and nearly _nonexistent_ on this occasion. A chuckle filled the angsty silence. "Oh please, the word of a **loser** like you against Bilgewater's _finest coffee shop_? I would almost sell tickets for that one." He knew that voice, that haunted his dreams and angered his days, but right now? He could **kiss** the guy.

Asshat King the First nearly popped a vein as he screamed: "Who said that?" And Graves felt a small twinge of satisfaction, as the lean figure emerged from the crowd, today clad in leather pants and a white shirt with a card printed on front. "So _sugar_ , we gonna fight now or what?" He taunted with that saccharine grin of his. And asshat imploded.  
The fight was swift and one-sided, since the asshat company was enraged, hysteric and dumb as bread, while Graves wasn't part-time bodyguard for nothing and the coffee guy was... _stunning_. He seemed to dance, tricking his opponents and still grinning like he had the time of his life. Which was probably true. "S-stay away, faggots!" The fallen king of asshats cried out and fled after his minions. The relieved sighs of all guests was quit, but satisfied.

With a huff and adrenaline still pumping through his system, he returned behind the counter and with steely resolve asked the next customer for his order without blinking an eye or otherwise indicating a change in attitude. But clearly the girl did not get the memo and thanked him profusely. "I come by every Thursday with my girlfriend, that lemon cake is _delicious as hell._ " She beamed up to him, before taking her beverage and making room for the next customers, an elderly couple with soft smiles. He felt the need to apologise to them, but they waved off. "In our time, we demonstrated for equal rights just like you, sonny. It's good to know it was not in vain." The woman even winked at him and whispered conspiratorily: "If I were you, I would _so tap that man._ Hihi..." She giggled, as her husband took the cups and lend her his arm to lead her to a window seat like a gentleman. Graves heard Lux sigh behind him and hushed her back to work, as he heard a fond chuckle from the counter. He closed his eyes for a moment, before turning back.

And there he was again: Burning look, easy grin and disheveled hair from the fight. He looked gorgeous like that and Graves could not deny it. He coughed embarrassed and went to work. "Ya order?" Apparently the guy understood his silent message and simply put an order for a cinnamon cappuccino, without his usual banter. Graves felt his stare on his back, as he busied himself with the machines. "An' what name will it be today?" He asked gruffly. "Tobias." Came the calm answer and he met Graves incredulous stare with a shrug and a soft smile. Graves took the cup and after some consideration scribbled away, pushing it towards Tobias. "Guess I see ya around." The open expression on his face was too hopeful and shocked to be fake, as he clearly had not expected that answer. "Yeah, I guess so." A honest smile playing on his lips. (And Graves did not think about that lips. **At all.** ) He turned and left the shop, leaving a nervous Graves behind. "That was your chance, sonny. Why did you waste it?" The old man brought their cups back and followed his line of view through the window, where Tobias still stood, inspecting his cup and suddenly turning his head to them, grinning from ear to ear with a delicious blush on his face.  


"I don't think I did."


End file.
